Roger’s words ringing in her brain…ringing of truth, though all she felt was utter desolation, her voice a weak whisper.
“Grandfather…”
CHAPTER6
In the dim light of a lantern hung inside the barn door, Roger stared at Julianna huddled on a pile of straw, her back turned to him and a blanket covering her.
It was the first time he had decided it safe enough to stop and rest for the night rather than the short breaks that had gotten them deep into Scotland and less than a day’s ride to Dumbarton. By God, if the delegation had held to such a relentless pace, they would have made it to York in record time rather than everyone but him rotting in an unmarked grave—
“Grandfather…no, no…”
Roger sighed heavily at the soft murmurs coming from Julianna, but she didn’t stir and he knew she was fast asleep and dreaming.
She had said little to him for three days. Her grief for the man she clearly loved had made her grow pale and show little interest in much around her, Roger having to coax her to eat whenever they stopped along the way.
At farms or small villages, mostly, where he had traded whatever exhausted mount they rode for a fresh one, their current horse munching hay in a stall not far from where they had bedded down in a corner of the barn.
The farmer once a fighter in King Robert’s army until an arrow through the shoulder had left one of his arms near useless and he had returned home to his wife and children.
Roger hadn’t dared to breathe easier until he and Julianna were many leagues past the border between England and Scotland, and even then he hadn’t slowed their pace or opted for more well-traveled roads. Scotsmen loyal to Robert the Bruce vastly outnumbered any with continuing ties to King Edward, but there were still forays northward of English soldiers to harry the populace.
And let him not forget about Charles de Montfort, but the man would have turned back by now and without his betrothed. Julianna had said she didn’t love him—but when had that made any difference when it came to wealth and lands? If Roger hadn’t abducted her, she would have become a bride to that murderous bastard, her grandfather buried and her estate no longer her own…
“Och, man, you’re growing soft,” Roger muttered to himself, for it seemed his thoughts were forever turning to Julianna, along with no small amount of regret for treating her so brutally.
Aye, it had been pitiless of him to steal her from her home and the life she knew, but his motives had undeniably altered once he learned that her betrothal was not of her own choosing.
Now whenever he looked at her, he felt a surge of protectiveness that astonished him. Thank God De Montfort and his men had never come close to finding them, the thought that Roger had intended to threaten her life to get himself safely across the border almost more than he could stomach.
She was alone now in the world and grief-stricken, and mayhap willing to let life slip away from her by how little she had eaten or drank these past few days in spite of his urging. That thought reminded him, too, of how he had longed to follow Sylvia into death—until his youngest brother, David, had traveled home to Lanarkshire upon their father’s passing and taken it upon himself to encourage Roger to move past his grief for the sake of his three children.
David had even gone so far as to strike Roger across the face to get him to hear reason, which had enraged him and caused him to try and knock David to his knees. A futile attempt as it turned out, the two of them grappling mightily with each other and neither giving ground.
David had grown into a powerfully built warrior since last Roger had seen him six years past when David had gone to Campbell Castle in Argyll to train with legendary Highlanders: Cameron Campbell and his brother Conall, Gabriel MacLachlan, and the renowned sea raider Gavin MacLachlan.
And now David was husband to Cameron’s daughter, Sorcha, though Roger hadn’t attended the wedding feast in August along with William and Evander.
Instead he had remained at Douglas Castle, his emotions still tortured by Sylvia’s loss though he had forced himself to think ahead to his upcoming mission—
“Oh, no, I can hear them screaming!Mama…Papa! Dear God, please help them! Have they found my brother, too? Will they find me? Oh, no…nooooooo!”
Julianna had flung off the blanket in the throes of her nightmare and thrashed upon the straw as Roger rose from his makeshift bed six feet away and rushed to kneel down beside her. As she cried out again in terror, he grabbed her slender shoulders and shook her, but still she didn’t awake.
“They’re coming closer…I can hear them! Someone’s in my room, the floor is creaking. If I stay very still…very quiet, mayhap they won’t find me. Shh, Juli, don’t breathe, don’t make a sound…oh, God, are they gone? Why is there so much blood? No, no, they’re all dead…Mama, Papa, Alain—all dead!”
Her outburst piteous, heartrending, Roger could only shake her again and this time, her eyes opened wide and she saw him in the lantern light.
Saw him and screamed, “Don’t kill me, please!Don’t kill me!” before she burst into tears and flailed against him, Roger realizing she was still locked in the throes of her nightmare.
All he could do was gather her into his arms and hold her tightly against him, grunting in pain when her fist struck him in the ribs.
Not once, but twice before he subdued her further by clasping her wrist so she couldn’t hit him again.
A wrist so slender, so delicate, he feared he might break her bones and eased his hold upon her, Julianna falling limp with her head lolling back.
He realized then she had fainted, Roger laying her down upon the straw and gazing at her tearstained face as he drew the blanket up to her chin.
Should he leave her and go back to his own pallet? What if her nightmare returned and she screamed again? He had no doubt that the farmer and his family must be alarmed at the ruckus, and sure enough, Roger heard the barn door squeak open.
