The fact that it was his new Chief didn’t stop him from cursing and rolling over, pulling the wool blanket over his head.
The fierce Islander chuckled—it wasn’t a sound Thom had ever heard from MacLeod before and the novelty even broke through his exhausted haze. He pulled back the blanket and cranked open one eye.
“Hail, Caesar. It’s time to get up and put on your laurel. Rome is waiting. You don’t want to sleep through your own triumph.”
It was far too early for jests. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’ll have to see for yourself.”
A short while later Thom did. The high street from the castle to Holyrood Abbey was lined with a cheering mob—the citizens of Edinburgh had taken to the streets to show their support of the king and celebrate yet another miraculous feat that would perhaps be the crowning achievement in what was to become the almost mythical legend of the Bruce.
Randolph was being hailed as a conquering hero, and Thom, for his part, as the man who had made it all possible. His role as the warrior who’d climbed the unclimbable had been impossible to keep secret. His name was being bandied everywhere, and everyone wanted to see the smith’s son from Douglas who’d climbed to the highest peak and set this latest miracle into action.
When he, Randolph, and some of the other men from Moray appeared at the castle portcullis, the cheer was so resounding, so deafening, that Thom indeed knew what Caesar must have felt like when he returned from his victories.
Pretty damned good.
Thom knew the Guard didn’t believe in personal accolades or singling out men for accomplishment, but he would fade back into obscurity tomorrow. Today, he was going to bloody well enjoy it.
But if there was one face he wanted to see in the crowd more than any other, he told himself it was to have the satisfaction of knowing that she’d been wrong not to put her faith in him.
Very wrong.
“I made a mistake.”
His mouth curled. Damned right, she had.
Elizabeth had returned from camp with Lady Helen in such a state of distress that it was impossible to hide the cause from Jo and Izzie. She’d made a mistake, she told them. She loved Thom, and he was going to die before she could convince him of that fact.
Elizabeth didn’t need to swear the two women to secrecy; she knew they would go to their graves before they told anyone what the men had planned. Both women immediately understood the gravity of the situation and the extreme danger.
“No!” Jo said. “Castle Rock? He can’t.”
“Randolph, too?” Izzie asked.
Elizabeth nodded.
She wasn’t surprised when tears filled Jo’s eyes, but she was surprised to see Izzie similarly affected. At first Elizabeth didn’t understand. But when an explanation finally occurred to her, she knew she had even more reason for doing what she was going to do.
In those long, tortured hours of waiting, of not knowing what was happening, of not knowing whether the man she loved was dead or alive, Elizabeth decided two things: she couldn’t marry Randolph (no matter what the consequences of breaking the betrothal), and it wasn’t too late for her and Thom. She would do whatever she had to do to prove that to him.
But if she knew Thom, it wasn’t going to be easy. She’d failed him, and in the process unintentionally hurt him where he was most vulnerable—his pride. She could see it now, if only she’d seen it before.
She hadn’t been strong enough to defy her family and society, or brave enough to face an uncertain future—one without extreme wealth and comfort. She’d let herself be swayed by thoughts of whatcouldhappen to her children, while losing sight of the fact that the only children she wanted to have were Thom’s.
Worse, when she’d refused him, Thom wouldn’t have just seen it as a rejection of his offer of marriage for one that was so much obviously “better,” he would have also seen it as a rejection ofhim. Of the man he was. She’d made him feel as if he were not good enough—as if he were not worthy of her hand—when nothing could be further from the truth. His crude words of parting came back to her—“good enough to fuck isn’t good enough”—how horribly he’d misunderstood her motives. To her mind, there was no one better or more worthy. She just hadn’t been able to see through the fear.
She had no wish to live in poverty ever again, but Thom was right: there were no guarantees. With him or without him, she did not know what the future held. But she did know that without him she would be miserable, and she trusted him to keep her—and their children—safe.
What he’d accomplished so far should have convinced her. He’d made his way up a ladder that was all but impossible to climb: the smith’s son had become a formidable warrior, one skilled enough to be recruited by the greatest team of warriors this country had ever seen. And he’d done so with skill, determination, and hard work. She was so proud of him, but when she’d been given the chance to prove that to him, she’d faltered.
Even if he never achieved more than he had at this moment it didn’t matter. Unlike most men of her rank, Thom had skills beyond the battlefield to fall back on. He could be one of the greatest sword makers in Scotland, if he wanted to be.
Of course, it would have been much easier if she could have understood all thisbeforeshe agreed to marry Randolph. But it took making that commitment, Lady Helen’s advice, and most of all the fear of losing him to force her to accept the truth. She should have jumped. He was worth the risk. All the gold, land, and security in Christendom wouldn’t matter without him. He was all that mattered. And she swore that if Thom gave her another chance, she would do whatever it took to prove to him that she would stand by him come what may.
He just had to survive the night.
The three women huddled together late into the evening. Lady Helen had stayed for a while but needed to return to her son. She was worried, too, but she told Elizabeth to have faith.
