“Aye. For now.”
“Thank the Almighty for that.” Grissa held a skirt, ready to toss it over Mila’s head.
Rapid-fire banging shook the bedchamber door. “Mi! Are ye in there?”
“Let him in while I lace my stomacher in place.” Mila dreaded having to warn Robbie about what might happen. When she turned, his expression told her he already knew. Damn this world and all its troubles. Could it not grant the boy a carefree existence for a little longer? Could it not leave her alone, too?
“I heard them shout for Teague to surrender himself or they would set fire to everything outside the wall,” he said. “Dwellings. Mistress Vivyanne’s house. Distillery. Everything. Then they said they would shoot flaming brands at the roof of the keep.”
Mila looked up while yanking on her shoes, knowing the answer before she even asked the question. “And Teague’s reply?”
“I asked for time to bid my beloved wife farewell,” came the answer from the doorway connecting their bedchambers.
Grissa caught hold of Robbie’s sleeve and dragged him with her out into the sitting room.
Hot tears streaming down her face, heart racing so fast she couldn’t breathe, Mila shook her head. “No. Ye canna go with them. Please dinna do this.”
He eased forward, sorrow and weariness slumping his shoulders. “I have no choice, my love,” he said.
“Everything can be rebuilt.” A hiccupping sob choked off her words as she rushed into his arms. “Ye canna be replaced. Not ever. Ye are the only one I will ever love.”
“Ye know as well as I that the bastards will lock everyone inside afore they light the fires.” He cradled her close and kissed the top of her head. “I canna bear that thought,” he said with a chilling calmness. “And I willna risk yer life. Keep me alive in yer heart and memories. My spirit will never leave yer side. I swear it.”
She clutched his waistcoat in both hands and pressed her face to his chest, inhaling his scent as though frantically branding it into her memories. Harder sobs racked her body. Misery took over.
He hugged her tighter and kissed her head again. “Shh…dinna fash yerself, m’dearest one. I may yet survive. They mean to take us to trial. In London.”
“They are feckin’ liars! Ye willna make it to London alive, and if ye do, it willna be a fair trial. No Scot receives justice in London. Ye know that as well as I!”
His smile looked forced as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Calder will look after ye in my stead. Keep ye safe and see that Grandmother is kept as comfortable as possible. The clan will guard ye, too.” His voice rasped with the agony of his words. “I love ye, my own. More than I ever thought I could love anyone or anything.” He swiped his thumb through the tears soaking her cheek. “I am thankful for the time God granted me with ye. I will cherish it always.”
She stared up at him, her vision blurred from crying. “I love ye with all my heart and soul.”
With a tenderness that shattered her to the core, he gave her a final kiss, then whispered his last wish across her lips. “Stay here, my love. I am a weak man and canna bear the sight of yer misery as they take me away.”
“I love ye,” she said, her voice breaking. “Always.”
He released her and charged out the door before she could stop him. She fell to her knees, hugging herself and rocking back and forth. She screamed and railed against history’s determination to kill the man she loved, then dropped forward and pounded on the floor with her fists. Hands pulled at her, trying to get her to rise. Trapped in her agony, she ignored them.
“Mi! Stop it!” Robbie crouched beside her, grabbed hold of her chin, and forced her to look at him. “Ye dishonor him by acting as though he is already dead.”
“He is already dead,” she forced through clenched teeth. “Ye know that.”
The lad pushed closer, his face red with anger. “He is not. Not like when that feckin’ drunk hit Mama and Da head on. There was no hope then. We still have hope now. We have to try to rescue him.”
“What hope?” She straightened to a sitting position to keep from shoving the boy away. Once again, her sweet Robbie was all she had left in the world. “There is no hope. He willna go to trial. Odds are, they will hang him or something even worse between here and London.”
Robbie stood tall and scowled down at her, disgust filling his face. “I canna believe ye let them beat ye like this. Ye are going to sit there and let history win? What happened to ye, Mi? Ye always told me to stand fast and keep pushing, and yet here ye are, belly up like a coward. I never wouldha thought ye such a hypocrite.”
“I am not a hypocrite. I am realistic.” How could he turn on her now? Now, when she needed him most? “There is nothing I can do.”
“How do ye know that?” He snorted. “Ye’ve not even attempted to think of a way to save him. All ye’ve done is wallow in self-pity.”
She glared at him, then pushed to her feet. “Dinna speak to me with such disrespect. Ye know better.”
“Aye, ye are right. ’Tis better I dinna speak to ye at all.” He charged from the room and slammed the door behind him. An angry act he’d never had the audacity to do before.
“Ye have no black to wear, mistress. Shall I have the ladies of the clan see what they can spare?” Grissa stood beside the wardrobe, her nose red from crying. “Should I fetch the priest?”
