Chapter twenty-six
I rode at the head of the Ross column on a gray, mist-hung morning.
The road was churned to dark mud beneath our horses’ hooves, and the Ross banner snapped in the damp wind above the retinue of warriors behind me.
Dawn had barely touched the eastern hills when we departed, Munro’s men mounted and provisioned, my heart pounding a desperate rhythm in my chest. Every moment Katreine spent in Buchanan’s reach was torture for me. I could not afford delay.
“Ye look as if ye might bite through yer tongue,” Munro said at my left shoulder, his voice pitched low for my ears alone. His face, half-visible in the gray light, was set with determination. “Saving the lass will nae happen any faster if ye worry yerself to death along the way.”
I gave him a tight nod, my eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Ye would feel the same were it Murieall.”
“Aye,” he admitted without hesitation. “Which is why I’m here with ye instead of warming her bed this morn.”
I said nothing, but gratitude washed through me even as worry swirled.
I knew Katreine likely feared being named a witch, and rightly so.
In these times, a woman who did not age would be condemned without trial and burned for her difference.
My hands tightened on the reins as I pictured her running, terrified and hunted by superstitious folk.
“I can hear yer worries banging around in yer head,” Munro said. “Ye’ll wear them out before we reach the court.”
I looked over at him, his profile stern and steady against the gray sky. “I left her there,” I said, the words a low growl. “What must she think? That I left because she was nae of use to me anymore,” I answered, my disgust with myself nearly overwhelming.
“And now ye’re riding back,” he pointed out. “With fifty of our warriors at yer back, and ye ken the truth of why ye left in yer heart, ye’ll tell her, and she will keen it as well.”
“Aye, but what if she is wed when I reach her?”
“Riders approach,” Munro said, by way of answer.
I flicked my gaze from him to the road, and sure enough, two riders appeared ahead, riding hard from the direction of the king’s court.
They wore the king’s colors, their cloaks heavy with road grime.
The leading rider spotted our banner, raised a hand to halt his companion, and pointed toward our column.
“Is there a James Ross among ye?”
My heart slammed against my ribs. I pulled my horse to a sharp halt, holding up one hand to signal the column to stop behind me. “I’m James Ross,” I called back.
The couriers rode forward, the second man reaching into a leather pouch at his hip. “We carry a missive for ye, my lord,” he said, producing a sealed packet. “From the king’s court.”
I took it from him, my fingers suddenly clumsy. “From the king?” I asked, though I could see from the seal it bore the mark not of Alexander but of Mary.
“Nay,” the first courier said. “From Princess Mary. We were told to ride until we found ye.”
“Thank ye,” I said, and the riders both nodded, turning back already the way they had come.
“Open it,” Munro urged, his voice tight with impatience.
I broke the outer seal, my hands shaking. The parchment within bore another missive, also bearing Princess Mary’s seal. Quickly, I unfolded the parchment and scanned a few brief lines in a woman’s hand I did not recognize.
James Ross,
I write on behalf of Katreine Wallace, who asked me to deliver this missive to you. She has been taken to Renfrewshire by Buchanan. He means to wed her there. I send this with all haste, that ye might reach her before it is too late.
Mary
I broke the seal on the second parchment and began to read.
James,
If this letter finds ye, please ken I love ye.
Pausing, I glanced to the bottom of the missive, saw it was signed by Katreine, and my blood began rushing almost violently through my veins as I continued to read.
I have loved ye since the day you came to save me from Siward, though I did nae ken it then.
I had to struggle not to grin like a clot-head as I read on.
Ye were a stranger to me, a man with his own secrets, and yet when ye stood between me and danger, I felt something shift inside me that has nae ever moved back into place.
What I tell ye now may be hard to believe, but it is true.
I am cursed, James. I can nae age. I was cursed many years ago by the witch Morgana ye took me to see in the Dark Forest. I have watched friends grow old and die while I remain trapped in a body that will nae move forward.
The witch alone kens how long I will be stuck this way.
This is why I fled my home. This is why I kept my distance from ye.
I feared loving ye would mean watching ye grow old while I stayed the same.
I feared ye would believe me unnatural and turn away from me in horror.
I feared many things, but what I fear most now is that ye will nae ever keening what is in my heart for ye.
Now I am in greater danger. Alec Buchanan threatens to expose me as a witch to the king if I do nae wed him.
The king would have me burned, James. I ken it in my bones.
Aye, that solves the problem of nae ageing, but I wish to live a joyous life and am nae ready to die to end my curse.
And Alec would use my secret to keep me bound to him for all my endless days as long as he draws breath.
He wants Renfrewshire, and he wants me as a means to keep it.
I ken I am about to ask a great deal, but if ye love me, if there is any part of ye that cares for me, I beg ye to come.
Help me flee somewhere I might be safe from the threat of being named a witch and from being forced into Alec’s bed.
I can nae bear the thought of his hands on me when I have keened yer touch.
Yers, with all my heart,
Katreine
I went still on my horse, the parchment clutched in both hands, my knuckles whitening at the edges.
My chin dipped toward my chest as the full weight of her words settled over me.
I had left her there. I had walked away because my pride was wounded, because I’d thought myself unworthy, because I’d believed the lie Buchanan told me. I’d let her face this alone.
“I am a fool,” I said aloud, my voice breaking on the words. “God’s blood, I am the greatest fool in all Scotland.”
“Oh, I do nae ken if that is true,” Munro said. I knew he was trying to ease my guilt. “There are many fools in Scotland, James. I doubt ye are the greatest.”
I could not even muster a smile at his jest. “Buchanan told me Katreine had bedded him,” I continued, the rage building in my chest. “He looked me in the eye and said she was a lusty lass. And I swallowed the poison he fed me.” I crushed the missive in my fist, then smoothed it out again with shaking hands, as if I might erase the creases.
“I should have seen the truth. I should have fought. I should have—”
Rage surged through my chest and out of my throat in a sound more animal than human. I wheeled my horse toward the column, my voice carrying to every man present.
“We ride for Renfrewshire!” I bellowed, my hand already reaching for my sword. “We ride to save the woman I love from a man who would make her a prize!”
The words were bitter on my tongue, since I had once intended to use Katreine.
I turned my horse toward Renfrewshire and drove my heels into the beast’s flanks as the men’s chorus of “Aye, we ride” resounded.
My destrier broke into a full gallop. “Any man who would stand against us will face the full wrath of Clan Ross!”
Munro pulled alongside me without question, his mount breaking into a run. “To Renfrewshire!” he shouted, and the Ross warriors behind us took up the cry, a wave of sound rolling across the mist-shrouded hills.
The road unspooled beneath us, the mud flying from the horses’ hooves in great dark chunks.
The Ross banner cracked hard in the speed-driven wind, the white and blue of it like a slash of lightning against the gray sky.
We thundered down the road, a wall of steel and fury to protect the woman I loved, because I was a Ross, and if she would have me, she would be a Ross as well.
My thoughts came in short, hard bursts as we galloped.
I could not lose her. She was mine. If Buchanan had touched her, I would tear the heart from his chest with my bare hands.
The image rose in my mind of Buchanan’s hands on Katreine’s skin, his mouth on hers, and I urged my horse faster, leaning low over its neck as the wind tore at my hair.
“Once we have her,” he shouted. “We’ll bring her home where we can protect her.”
“Aye, thank ye for granting her protection.”
“There is nae a need to thank me, James. As my wife’s friend and the woman ye love, she is as much a Ross as ye are. She will be family, as ye are.”
The words struck me like a physical blow.
For so long, I’d dreamed of a place to call my own, a clan name that was truly mine, and a stronghold where I might build a life.
I’d thought I needed to earn them, to prove myself worthy before I could ask for them.
And all along, they had been here, in the steady presence of the man who rode beside me and in the loyalty of the warriors who thundered at our backs.
“We are family,” I said, the words barely audible over the pounding of hooves.
Munro grinned, the fierce smile of a warrior riding to battle. “Aye, clot-heid. It took ye long enough for it to finally sink into yer thick skull. I can nae wait to meet yer lass. She must surely be a prize.”
“The greatest one,” I assured him, her face in my mind. I would fight a thousand wars for her, go to the ends of the earth, relinquish all possessions in my name, if only for one more moment with my lips to hers and her gaze upon me with trust.