Chapter twenty-seven #2
His mouth came over mine in a desperate, devouring kiss that I matched as I clutched at him, afraid to let go and fearful I was imagining it.
When he finally broke the kiss and set me on my feet, he cupped my face and looked down at me.
Behind him, his warriors had arrived, and their torches cast enough light that when I looked into James’s face, I saw love. My heart was so full it ached.
“I came as soon as I read yer letter,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.
“Nay, I was already on my way to ye,” he said, kissing me once more possessively on the mouth as he cradled my face.
When he pulled back again, he said, “God’s blood, Katreine, I thought I might be too late.
” He pressed his lips to my hair, my temple, and the corner of my mouth.
“I love ye,” he said, the words filling every empty space in my heart that had been waiting all my life for him.
“I want ye, nae yer land, nae Renfrewshire, nae any prize the king might offer.” He kissed me again and again, as if he, too, were afraid to release me and fearful he was imagining the moment.
When he pulled back this time, he asked, “Will ye have a nameless man—”
“Nae nameless,” a stern voice said from behind him.
James chuckled, took my hand, and pulled me away from the group behind us. “That’s Munro.” He stopped walking and faced me once more. “Will ye have me? I’m a Ross,” he said, smiling now, “but I do nae possess a stronghold to give ye.”
“I do nae need one,” I assured him. “Only ye,” I added, cupping his cheeks as he was mine. I was crying now, tears tracking down my cold cheeks. “Ye understand the curse? Ye believe me?” I wanted only truth between us.
“Aye,” he said, pressing his lips to mine again. “Murieall told me before I even received yer missive. She recognized ye from my description of the freckles on yer shoulder, yer laugh, and yer eyes.”
“Murieall,” I breathed, our friendship of the past still so dear to me after all this time. What must she look like now?
“She told me everything,” James said. “About the goblet and the witch and the four of ye lasses and the wishes ye made.” His gaze bore into me.
“She told me that, and that ye had nae ever been betrothed to Buchannan, and as the gods are my witness, Katreine, even if he had forced ye to wed already, even if he had claimed yer body, I would nae care. I want ye. I would defy anyone who tried to keep us apart.”
I could not contain myself. I flung myself at him, demanding a kiss, and he obliged, slanting his mouth over mine once more. It was savage with desperation, yet sweet with love. As our tongues met and then retreated, I knew I had never felt so seen, so loved, so valued in my life.
This time, I pulled back and pressed my cheek to his thundering heart. “I’m nae wed,” I assured him. “Alec could nae ever make me him, but he has nae touched me that way, either.” I looked up at James. “I was, in fact, fleeing just now to avoid him and the wedding, which is set for tomorrow.”
Suddenly, the door behind us creaked, then thudded open, cutting off whatever James had been about to say. As he shoved me behind him and drew his sword, a low growl rumbled from him, and I shivered at what he might do to Alec to protect me.
Alec emerged from the tunnel, a dozen of his warriors at his back, their swords already drawn and glinting in the torchlight. “Unhand my betrothed,” Alec said as he came toward us and withdrew his own sword. “She is promised to me by the king’s own decree.”
“A decree made because of yer lies,” James snarled as dozens of swords hissed from their sheaths behind us.
I glanced over my shoulder to see the Ross warriors ready for battle.
“Katreine is the woman I love, and my future wife,” James said, swinging his sword up to point it at Alex.
“She is nae now, nae will she ever be yers to command or touch. If ye dare to do so, I will rip ye limb from limb.”
“Yer future wife!” Alec exclaimed, then chuckled.
“I ken who ye are, James Ross,” Alec said, drawing out James’s clan name with a derisive snarl.
“Ye are a bastard without warriors, without land, and without a true last name, and ye presume to claim the Lady of Renfrewshire?” He took another step forward, his men moving with him, the line of warriors spreading out across the road.
“Ye will walk away from my betrothed, or I will cut ye down where ye stand.”
In an instant, the Ross warriors surged forward, and I was swept back behind an impenetrable wall of swords and sinewy muscle.
I could see nothing but men’s backs. A deep voice, not James’s, spoke.
“James is a Ross, and as I am the Laird of the clan, I bequeath to him Carrington Stronghold and five score of warriors to command. Now, ye filthy liar, step back, or ye will be cut down.”
“Or come forward if ye dare,” James said, speaking clearly and strongly. “In fact, I hope ye do. I will enjoy killing ye for daring to try to claim the woman I love.”
The sound of thundering hooves split the night behind me, and suddenly the Ross men parted, letting James through, then closed with a war cry, blocking Alec or his men from coming near me.
Behind us, men wearing plaids that matched James’s seemed to appear from the mist, but I realized they had been well-hidden, lying in wait to aid James in protecting me. My heart swelled.
As the approaching riders drew nearer, I could make out the king’s own standard, gold and crimson, fluttering in the torchlight, and fear shot through me.
I pressed close to James, and he whispered, “Do nae fear, Katreine. There is nae man in this world, nae even my king, who I’ll allow to part us. ”
By the gods, how I loved him for the utter, foolish devotion to me.
The king’s man rode hard until they were almost upon us, then pulled up short. A man called out, “I carry a message from His Majesty, King Alexander, for Buchanan.”
“Here,” Alec called out, and the king’s messenger edged his horse toward the line of Ross warriors, who still formed a wall between Alec’s men and me.
“Let me pass to deliver the message,” the courier said, sweeping his gaze over the warriors, trying, I imagined, to determine who commanded them.
“Let him pass,” a deep voice bellowed so close behind me that I yelped.
James gave me a reassuring squeeze.
The line of warriors parted once more to reveal Alex on the other side, standing face-to-face with a tall, powerfully built man wearing the Ross plaid.
There was something about his bearing that bespoke authority.
Mayhap it was the way his posture was so straight and sure, or the upward tilt of his chin. I whispered, “Is that Munro?”
“Aye,” James said in a low voice.
The king’s messenger broke the seal on the parchment and began to read.
“By order of the king: It has come to my attention that the healer, Lady Katreine Wallace, does nae wish to wed ye Buchanan, despite yer claim of prior betrothal. Princess Mary has informed me that another holds the healer’s heart. ”
My lips parted in shock. Mary had gone to the king on my behalf. My throat tightened with gratitude, even as tears stung my eyes.
The king’s man continued, his voice growing stronger.
“I hereby revoke my earlier permission for ye to wed Lady Wallace and give my blessing for her to wed as she wishes. Renfrewshire stronghold will become her husband’s, as set forth by her da’s own desires before his death.
When Lady Wallace has heirs, the stronghold will pass to them.
If she so desires, she may pass the stronghold to her remaining relative, Millicent Wallace.
Furthermore, I command ye to return to court with haste to serve me. ”
The messenger lowered the missive and looked to Alec. “Two days,” the man said, his words clipped. “His Majesty told me to convey that is the time ye have to appear before him at court.”
Alec’s face went white, then red, a flush of anger spreading from his neck to his hairline. “This is an outrage,” he growled. “The king has been deceived.” When Alec pointed at me, I stiffened in fear, and James drew me closer to his side. “Ye will tell the king—”
“I beg pardon, Buchanan, but the king told me that if ye start spouting words, to tell ye to save them. His daughter informed him that ye are obsessed with the healer and that ye will say anything to keep her. The king has pity for ye, but he does nae have tolerance for yer obsession.”
“But—” Alec sputtered.
“I will tell the king ye will present yerself before him in two days’ time,” the messenger said, and, much to my glee, dismissed anything Alec wanted to say to him.
He swung his destrier back toward us and moved through the line of warriors that remained open.
The messenger paused his horse in front of James and me and looked at me, smiling.
“The king has a personal message for ye, Lady Wallace.”
The messenger leaned over his horse and beckoned me forward with a crook of his finger.
James looked to me, arching his eyebrows as if to ask whether he should intervene, and I shook my head, my emotions rising at the thought that this man would defy the king for me.
He truly loved me. I stepped out of James’s protective embrace and walked to the messenger.
He smiled kindly at me, which eased my fears.
“The king wished me to tell ye personally,” the man said in almost a whisper, “that a long-forgotten memory came to him of a conversation with yer da, whom he considered a friend, from right before yer da passed, when they were both well in their cups. Yer da had come to the king to support him in his time of grief when he lost his last true heir.”