She was done trying. She just prayed her husband kept his promise better than she.
“I hope you know what you’re doing. Chief is going to be furious, when he discovers you’ve gone.”
Eoin stared at the man who’d been his partner in the Highland Guard since the first day of training on the Isle of Skye over nine months ago. He and Lamont—known by the war name Hunter—had been through hell and back the past three months. They’d saved each other’s lives more times than he’d like to recall. There was no one he trusted more, which is why he’d confided in him.
Tor MacLeod wasn’t just going to be furious, he was going to kill him. The leader of the Guard would never grant Eoin leave at this time, which is why he hadn’t asked permission. But Eoin couldn’t leave Scotland for God knew how long without telling his wife. Except for MacLeod—who’s wife was privy to everything and safe on the Isle of Skye—Eoin was the only guardsman who was married. At times like this, he could understand why. It gave him a responsibility the others didn’t have.
“I’ll be gone two days—no more. I will catch up with you at Tarbert. Chief will barely have time to notice I’m gone.”
Neither of them believed that. Chief would be cursing him to Hades as soon as he woke and discovered Eoin was gone. He didn’t want to think about his punishment when he returned.
“Assuming you can make it past the MacDougalls. They’ll be patrolling every inch of waterway between here and Dunaverty.”
After the loss at Dal Righ at the hands of the MacDougalls, Bruce and what were left of his men were on the run. After fleeing the battlefield, they’d taken refuge in a cave on the northern shore of Loch Voil in Balquhidder—MacGregor country. But with the MacDougalls hunting them from the west, the Earl of Ross from the north, and the English closing in from the east and south, there was no place safe for them to hide. They had to leave Scotland. From here they would make their way to Dunaverty on the southernmost tip of Kintyre, where they hoped Erik MacSorley, the best seafarer in the West Island kingdom of seafarers, would be able to slip a ship past the English blockade.
“That is why I plan to swim the short distance from Oban to Kerrera tomorrow night. I’ll cross back before dawn, and make my way through Argyll. They won’t be looking for one man on a horse.”
Lamont didn’t look convinced but nodded. “Bàs roimh Gèill,” he said in parting.
Death before surrender—the motto of the Highland Guard, and Lamont’s way of wishing him good luck.
The words were with Eoin on the treacherous journey over fifty miles of rough terrain, filled with more sightings of war parties than he’d anticipated. But less than twenty-four hours later, he was trudging up the shore of Kerrera. Soaking wet and cold, but he’d made it.
Not sure what he would find, he approached the postern gate of the darkened castle cautiously. The MacDougalls would come here eventually, but for now, he hoped they were too busy trying to catch Bruce.
The bell for curfew would have been rung hours ago, and the castle gates were locked. But recognizing the guards on watch, Eoin took a chance and approached. The man called for the porter, and a short while later the gate was unlocked. Eoin was home.
He woke his mother first. After she recovered from the shock and he’d assured her of their well-being, she found him some dry clothes while he told her what he could of their plans. Knowing his time was short, he asked her to bid farewell to his sisters and went to wake his wife.
The sob of relief that tore from Margaret’s throat, and the feel of her in his arms a moment later, made the risk he’d taken in coming to her worth it.
“Thank God, you are alive,” she sobbed against his chest. “I was so scared. But the nightmare is over. You are back. I missed you so much. I didn’t know how much more I could take.”
He cursed the words that he must speak, knowing how hard they were going to be for her to hear. She’d sat up to throw her arms around his neck, and now he gently pushed her back so that he might look at her. “It’s not over, Maggie. But I couldn’t leave without letting you know I was alive—without saying goodbye.”
She blinked, as if she’d misunderstood him. “What do you mean goodbye? Of course it’s over. Bruce has been defeated. His cause is lost.”
Eoin shook his head. “It’s not over. Bruce has been defeated, aye, but he has not lost. We will regroup and return when we are ready to fight again.”
She looked at him as if he were mad. “Regroup? You can’t be serious. Bruce can’t have but a handful of supporters left. His army has been disbanded. Those who were not killed in battle have renounced their loyalty to Bruce and surrendered either to John MacDougall, the Earl of Ross, or the Earl of Buchan.”
Eoin’s jaw hardened; he was well aware of the men deserting the king. His own foster brother was among them. The betrayal stung, but he was trusting Fin to protect his family. “I haven’t. Nor will I.”
“But you have to!” There was a wild, panicked looked in her eye that he’d never seen before. “You can’t stay with him, you’ll be hunted like a dog and executed. Everyone knows what happened to William Wallace—do you want to die like that?” Her hand clutched at his arm, as if willing him to listen. “My father will help. If we go to him now, he’ll see that you aren’t punished.”
He carefully detached her hand. “I’m not going to your father, Maggie. Not now, not ever. My place is with Bruce, and it will be as long as there is a breath of freedom in his lungs.”
“Which won’t be long when King Edward gets ahold of him. There is no rock big enough to hide under for Bruce and his men. King Edward will have every man from Ross to the Borders looking for you.” Which is why they were fleeing the mainland, taking refuge in the hundreds of isles in the western seas. “Where will you go?”
He looked at her mutely.
“You won’t tell me?” she said, the hollowness of hurt echoing in her voice. “Of course not.”
He cursed, raking his fingers through his hair frustratingly. Damn his kinsman to hell for doing this to them. “I can’t, Maggie. It’s not just my secret. I took a vow.”
“And it has nothing to do with my being a MacDowell?” When he didn’t deny it—couldn’t deny it—her expression hardened. “Don’t be a fool, Eoin. Don’t do this. Don’t give your life to a lost cause.”
Eoin tried to keep a rein on his temper. He hadn’t expected her to understand, but neither had he expected to be called a fool. After fighting beside his cousin for months, Eoin’s belief in Bruce’s cause had only grown stronger. But Eoin knew that was the last thing his wife wanted to hear. She only wanted him safe. “I didn’t come here to argue with you, Maggie. I came to say goodbye. I don’t know how long it will take, but I will be back.”
