Hubert de Vescy was gone, tears blinding her now as more servants rushed into the room, led by Chester.
Yet they all came up short inside the door to see Julianna sinking to her knees beside the bed to stroke her grandfather’s forehead.
“Ah, no…no.” Already his skin was growing cool, the faint smile on his lips telling her that he hadn’t died in pain.
Had he been thinking of his long dead wife, Julianna’s grandmother? Theirs had been a love match, too, a blessing that she had so wanted for herself when she married.
Or had he been pondering her upcoming wedding, her consent to become Charles’s wife pleasing him in his final moments? What else could she do now than to honor what he had intended for her? Julianna turned to look at Chester even as he approached the bed.
“You must send for Lord de Montfort,” she murmured with a shaking voice, her throat tightened with grief. “He needs to know that my grandfather has died.”
“He’s gone back to the scene of the attack, my lady. A messenger arrived at the manor just before we came running to see what was amiss…” Chester faltered, glancing from Hubert’s lifeless body to Julianna, tears welling in his eyes, too. “Lord de Montfort believes a Highlander might have survived and they’re searching for him. One of his men left to bury the dead found a torn piece of tartan cloth further into the trees and alerted his lordship at first light. Lord de Montfort said we must bolt the doors and stay vigilant until we hear from him—”
“No one could have survived that slaughter!” Julianna’s voice grown shrill, she couldn’t believe what she had just heard from the steward or how fiercely her heart was pounding as she rose to face the servants.
If Charles and his men were searching the woods, it would only be a matter of time before they came upon the hut and found…
“I will go to Lord de Montfort myself and tell him of my grandfather’s death. Chester, please tend to him. The rest of you begin preparations for his burial.”
She ignored the gasps of surprise and hastened past the shocked servants, but what could they say? She was mistress of the house now, at least until she wed Charles and he became the master of all that had belonged to her family—oh, God, she couldn’t think of that now.
Once in the hallway, Julianna didn’t waste a moment to fetch her cloak, but hurried through the house to the imposing front door and rushed outside toward the stable.
Would she reach Roger in time to warn him? If Charles found him, he would be murdered on the spot—that terrible prospect filling her with dread. Hadn’t there been enough killing?
After the unprovoked loss of his delegation, Roger at least had to be given the chance to make it back into Scotland. She had already planned to bring him a horse and provisions in a few days, after he’d had enough time to heal.
All those thoughts and more spun through her head as she ran to the first stall and hastily saddled a dappled gray gelding, and then led him from the stable. She felt breathless and increasingly anxious, her heart clamoring against her breast—
“My lady, will you take some men-at-arms with you?”
Chester crying out to her from the front of the manor house, Julianna ignored him as she mounted the horse and kicked him into a gallop.
God help her, if the guards didn’t open the gates, she would crash right into them!
To her immense relief, a frantic scramble by the men gave her just enough of an opening to ride through and she headed straight for the woods.
CHAPTER5
Roger couldn’t say if it was the throbbing in his ribs that wouldn’t allow him to sleep, or that the owl was perched only a few feet away from him on the mantel—a distinct rustle of feathers telling him the bird wasn’t sleeping, either.
At least the owl wasn’t hungry, which gave Roger some comfort that he wouldn’t have to fend off an attack…for a while, anyway. The thought of those sharp talons digging into his flesh was an unpleasant one; in his weakened state, he had no doubt that he must appear a potential prey to the creature—by God, what had Julianna been feeding the bird? Bugs? Worms?
As a healer who clearly helped animals as well as people, he couldn’t see her offering mice or other rodents to the owl, so the damned thing must have been as hungry for meat as Roger felt right now. The last thing he’d eaten was stale oakcakes, but he didn’t dare move from the mattress, either, for the agony that would surely accompany his attempt to reach the basket filled with bread and cheese.
Instead, he lay there and stared at the same thatched roof and wondered when Julianna would be able to return. His questions about her hadn’t faded from his mind for a moment, which had kept him from closing his eyes and trying to rest as well.
Other than his mission that had occupied his thoughts since King Robert had sent the delegation on its way from Dumbarton Castle, he hadn’t thought of anything else for months but losing Sylvia. It felt so strange to be thinking so much about another woman, Roger feeling a sudden stab of disloyalty. Clenching his jaw, he tried to focus instead on how he was going to continue on that mission.
He had no intention of returning to Scotland broken and defeated. He had pledged to King Robert to offer King Edward’s representatives an exchange of highborn prisoners for his wife’s safe return. The tactic hadn’t been successful thus far, but this young king was a weaker man compared to his brutal father and mayhap he didn’t have the stomach for endless warfare and strife.
If there was a chance at all Roger could end the seven-year impasse and strike a deal with the English that would bring Elizabeth home to her husband, he would do it. He would allow himself another few days for his injuries to mend and then set out again for York. Aye, mayhap traveling alone with swiftness and stealth would have been the wiser course—
“By God,what…?” Roger grimaced as he sat up, the thundering sound of hooves drawing closer making his every bruised muscle grow taut no matter the pain his movement caused him.
He glanced around him for a weapon, anything, the owl flapping its wings when he lunged to his feet to grab the poker near the hearth.
Not a sword, but it would stab as cleanly, Roger rushing to take a defensive stance near the door even as it was flung wide open, Julianna rushing into the hut.
