Chapter 31
“Eleanor?” Brice asked as soon as he was certain the English were out of earshot.
Eleanor was pale, her eyes wide, and her body rigid. He didn’t blame her for her reaction; he was proud that she hadn’t revealed their presence when she’d seen Blackwood.
He gathered her in his arms and held her tight.
Every thought he had of keeping her with him vanished when he saw that bastard.
He couldn’t keep Eleanor here while that man was alive.
He’d wanted to stand up and yank him off his horse and beat him until he screamed for mercy.
But he’d held himself still and let them pass and seethed at his helplessness.
It was a moment before he realized Eleanor was struggling to get out of his hold. She was trying to speak, but he had her face pressed against his chest. He pulled away. She was nearly frantic.
“Eleanor, he’s gone now.”
“No. You don’t understand. That was my brother.”
Brice frowned. “Yer brother? With Blackwood?”
“Yes! The man…the one who wasn’t a soldier. That’s my brother, Thomas. Why is he with Blackwood? Why is he here?”
Brice looked in the direction that the English had disappeared. They were heading toward Campbell land. Had her brother come to Scotland to find her? Were they hoping Campbell would help them?
“We need to get him,” she was saying. “We need to get my brother.”
“I can’t just take him from the English. Do ye think they’ll let me ride up to ask him politely to come with me?”
“Why is he with Blackwood?” she asked, desperation in her voice.
“I do no’ know.” But this boded ill for Eleanor.
If Blackwood found her—and it appeared he was increasing his search for her—Brice had no idea what would happen.
And he had no idea what Blackwood had told Eleanor’s brother.
She was right. They had to get her brother away from Blackwood. But how, without getting arrested?
“Come,” he said.
They mounted their horses. His men met him in the middle of the road.
“We’re going to follow the soldiers,” he told them.
The men exchanged glances of disbelief.
“They have a man with them. Eleanor’s brother. We need to take him from the soldiers, but I do no’ want ye to put yerself in danger. If things go bad, leave. Ride back to Castle Dornach. Tell MacLean what happened. Do ye understand me?”
They nodded and the foursome set off. They caught up to the soldiers fairly quickly.
Per his command, the two men went to the other side of the road and disappeared in the shadows.
He and Eleanor did the same on the opposite side.
They rode as quietly at they could until they were close enough to the soldiers.
Eleanor was still pale—even more so now—and she couldn’t take her eyes off the man in the center.
Brice studied him. There was nothing outstanding about him. He was dressed as an Englishman and had the blond hair of his sister. He was neither tall nor short. He wore a sword at his waist and rode in a relaxed manner.
Brice put his mouth to Eleanor’s ear. “When I capture him, I want ye to take that sword off him.”
“But—”
“He’ll no’ know it’s ye until he sees ye, and I do no’ want him drawing that sword on me before he does.”
She nodded. Now all he needed to do was figure out how to get the man away from the English.
He was contemplating that when a loud noise from the front of the soldiers made their horses sidestep.
One reared. The universal Highlander war cry pierced the night, and it confused Brice until he saw Colin appear out of the shadows, his broadsword raised, his mouth open wide, and the battle cry on his lips.
Immediately the soldiers surged forward, leaving the Englishman alone in the middle of the road.
Brice slid off Galad and moved toward the soldiers. He yanked Thomas off the horse, covered his mouth, and dragged him away. He looked over his shoulder and caught Colin’s eye. The MacLean winked just as he was taken down by the four soldiers.
Eleanor’s brother was slight but strong; however, Brice was stronger. He dragged the man into the trees. Eleanor grabbed the sword at his side, and to Brice’s surprise she pointed the tip at his throat. “Cease,” she commanded.
Both her brother and Brice stilled. Pride filled Brice at this woman who, just weeks ago, had been a trembling, terrified mess.
Now she was straddling her brother’s legs, dressed in breeches and a white shirt, a sword held confidently in her hand as she looked down on her brother with her yellow hair in her eyes and her expression fierce.
She blew the hair away. “Thomas, it’s me.”
Thomas’s eyes widened. He’d stopped struggling, but his muscles were tensed to fight.
“We have to go,” Brice said to Eleanor, glancing toward the road, where the soldiers were fighting with Colin, who was holding his own but wouldn’t for much longer.
Eleanor leaned down into her brother’s face. “I need you to trust me. Do you trust me, Thomas?”
Thomas continued to stare at her in amazement and confusion.
Eleanor huffed out a breath. “I’m not in any harm, and you’re not, either, but you have to do what Brice and I say.” She glanced over her shoulder. Brice could see her fear that Blackwood would find them. “Thomas?” She looked back at her brother.
Thomas nodded. Brice released him slowly, ready to grab him again should he do anything stupid.
Thomas stood and reached for his sword, but Eleanor held it away from him. “I’ll keep this.”
He peered at his sister. “Eleanor?”
“Aye. I’ll explain later, but now we have to ride.” She stomped over to the horses and grabbed their reins.
Brice watched Thomas watch his sister. “She’s something, isn’t she?” Brice said.
Thomas looked at Brice, then back at Eleanor.
Brice slapped Thomas on the shoulder, and he stumbled forward a few paces. “Just wait, man. There’s more to come.”
Eleanor mounted Galad smoothly, as if born to mounting horses. She nodded to the mount she had been riding. “You take that one,” she said to Thomas. “I’ll ride with Brice.”
Hiding his smile, Brice mounted behind her. “We need to ride hard,” he said softly, but loud enough that Thomas could hear as well. “Can ye ride?” he asked Thomas.
Thomas’s shoulders stiffened. “Of course.”
Brice nodded and led the way. Eleanor sat in front of him, leaning quietly against him, comfortable in his arms. It was as if they were one person, they rode so well together.
Brice tried not to think about what would happen next or what the appearance of Thomas meant in their lives.
There was time enough for that later. Now he would simply enjoy riding with Eleanor.
His relief was great when they reached Castle Dornach. They’d ridden hard, and it had taken only an hour to get home, but it had been a tense hour. Brice was on edge, expecting soldiers to jump out at any moment.
He slid off Galad and helped Eleanor dismount. Thomas watched them closely. Eleanor tore herself out of Brice’s arms and ran to her brother, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tight.
Thomas held her for a long moment while Brice handed the reins to the groom and instructed him to rub the horses down.
He tried not to let his heart break, but seeing Eleanor in her brother’s arms was almost too much to handle.
—
Eleanor pulled away from Thomas and touched his face. “What are you doing here?” she asked in wonder.
“Looking for you.”
It was so good to hear his voice. It reminded her of home and made her homesick.
“How are Mother and Father?” she asked, anxious to hear more.
“Worried about you.”
Thomas looked around, craning his neck to look up at the castle. “Where in the bloody hell are we?”
“We need to get inside,” Brice said, striding up to them. Eleanor turned to him with a wide smile but saw the look in his eyes and stopped what she was about to say. She’d never seen him look so bleak. It occurred to her that everything was going to change now that Thomas was here.
“Come, Thomas.” She motioned for Thomas to follow them into the great hall.
People stopped to look at the new arrival. Thomas shifted beside her. “Eleanor—”
“It’s fine, Thomas. These are my friends.”
He appeared skeptical but remained silent while Eleanor followed Brice up the steps and into his solar. Brice closed the door and turned to face them. Eleanor went to Brice to stand beside him.
“Thomas, I would like you to meet Brice Sutherland, chief of clan Sutherland and Earl of Dornach. Brice, my brother, Lord Thomas Stiles, Viscount Scarbrough.”
The two men eyed each other warily. They nodded but didn’t shake hands.
“Brice saved my life, Thomas.”
Thomas was the one to finally give in. “I thank you, my lord.”
“Call me Brice. We don’t stand on formalities here.”
Thomas nodded.
The tension in the air was palpable, and it increased Eleanor’s anxiety. She desperately wanted Brice and her brother to get along. They were both important men in her life.
“Where have you been, Eleanor? Why haven’t you answered our letters or written to let us know you were alive and well?”
She hesitated and looked at Brice. He was leaning against the front of his desk, his cool blue eyes watching her.
Obviously it was up to her to tell the story.
“I think we should all sit down,” she said, her voice trembling a bit.
She’d never considered that telling her family about her plight would be so disconcerting.
Thomas glanced at Brice, who seemed to be glowering at Thomas. “I’ll stand,” her brother said.
“You two are being impossible.” But neither of them was listening to her, too busy measuring each other.
Thomas, Eleanor knew, was a staunch supporter of England and was not fond of the Jacobites.
And while Brice had not fought at Culloden, he supported the Jacobite cause.
Thomas was polished and Brice was a Highland warrior.
The differences were magnified as the two men faced off.
Eleanor loved them both and was frustrated that they could not see past their dislike.
“Why don’t ye tell us what ye know about Eleanor’s disappearance?” Brice said.
Thomas stiffened. Eleanor shot him a pleading look, but Thomas always had been a bit difficult. He was a viscount in his own right and had been raised to inherit the earldom after their father. He didn’t take kindly to being told what to do, and Brice liked to tell people what to do.
“We heard of the death of Charles.” Thomas looked at Eleanor in sympathy.
“What did ye hear of his death?” Brice asked, crossing his arms over his muscled chest. Thomas’s jaw worked.
Eleanor put a hand on her brother’s arm. “This is important, Thomas. We need to know exactly what you know.”
He seemed to relax a bit, but he still watched Brice with narrowed eyes. “We heard he was accused of treason and hanged. My God, Eleanor, I’m so sorry. If Father had known, he never would have sanctioned the marriage.”
“Father didn’t know because Charles wasn’t involved in treason.”
Thomas appeared surprised. So Blackwood had managed to convince his superiors in London that Charles was guilty.
“I wondered,” Thomas said. “But we were told by some of the highest members of the English army. The Hirst family has left London in disgrace.”
Eleanor closed her eyes in pain for Charles’s family. Blackwood had ruined so many people, and for what?
“We sent letters to the address you had given us in Edinburgh but received nothing back. Our queries were met with silence. Father used all of his considerable connections.” Thomas shot Brice a look, but Brice stared blandly back, unimpressed by her father’s connections.
“Mother wanted to travel to Edinburgh, but Father refused, saying it was too dangerous to travel to Scotland now. They sent me. I went straight to Edinburgh, but you were gone, and no one there knew anything about where you’d gone.
It took me some weeks to find someone to bring me to Fort Augustus, where I spoke to Colonel Blackwood. ”
Eleanor flinched at Blackwood’s name. Brice’s impassive gaze slid to her.
“What happened to you, Eleanor?” Thomas asked.