Another crashing boom made Roger curse, but Alec’s oath was even louder.
The strapping young man had been one of his trusted captains since Roger had inherited the lairdship, Alec having come from Sutherland two years ago to train at Douglas Castle—though Roger knew he had recently been summoned home. His family wanted him to marry and take his place as a highly skilled warrior among them, though he showed little inclination to oblige them.
News had also come that trouble was brewing among the Mackays and the namesake of the shire, Clan Sutherland—but so it had been as long as anyone could remember between the two warlike clans that thankfully fought on the side of King Robert.
“Go on inside and find your lady,” Alec said gruffly, shaking off the rain that had plastered his thick, shoulder-length hair to his head. “You’ve been a changed man since you returned home and we’ve all been glad tae see it. I’ll keep watch and send word if William dares tae show his face at the gates.”
Roger clapped his cousin on the shoulder and nodded, the thought of spending more precious time with Julianna and his children never far from his mind. He shot another glance out at the fog-shrouded countryside that appeared to be clearing—if only a wee bit. Och, was that some movement along the road from the southwest?
Suddenly grown tense, Roger watched as a retinue of men and horses appeared out of the mist…fourteen riders in all, a purple banner carried by the man at the front hanging limp in the relentless rain.
A purple banner that he knew if the wind was blowing, would show a golden eagle at the center, an emblem of the Church—ah, God, so William had convinced the bishop to accompany him to Douglas Castle, mayhap their arrival delayed by the foul weather.
The messenger Roger had sent to Dumbarton would have long reached his destination by now, but what could King Robert do when it came to such a matter? He needed the continued support of the Church in his battle for independence from England, and Julianna was English after all, though the king had sanctioned their marriage.
If a choice must be made between backing the bishop’s decision when it came to a charge of witchcraft, or siding with Roger in defense of his foreign-born wife—och, he couldn’t think of it now! Instead, he roared out to his guards for the gates to be opened as he spied William riding alongside the bishop…an ill omen if ever he’d seen one.
With Alec close behind him, Roger lunged down the stone steps to the bailey and cast a regretful glance at the keep.
He had no time now to seek out Julianna and offer her a hug and reassurance, or for them to spend another happy afternoon with Elspeth, Breda, and Aran, Roger doing his best to keep any dark thoughts at bay.
He had considered revealing his plan to Julianna, but why terrify her with the possibility that death soon awaited them? He was a warrior after all and had always known that each battle could be his last.
With ankle-deep mud sucking at his boots, he stood in the bailey with Alec at his right and more of his men come to flank him as the immense gates creaked open.
Another ill omen came when Bishop Francis, as fat as a barrel, made a sweeping sign of the Cross upon entering as if he feared the demons of hell awaited to assail him.
William did the same in a feigned act of piety that made Roger near choke for the fury tightening his throat, and it was all he could do not to pull him down from his horse into the muck.
“Brother, we’re soaked tae the bone and need a warm fire and a hearty meal, aye, Bishop?”
In answer to William’s query, the cleric sneezed, his double chin quivering…Roger galled even more that he must offer the bishop comfort when his clenched gut told him that he had come to condemn Julianna.
“Your holiness, my men will see tae your horses while you accompany me inside.”
There, Roger would offer no more welcome than what he had barely managed to utter, his furious glance at William only drawing a self-satisfied smirk that made him yearn to draw his sword.
“Not yet, man,” Roger said to himself under his breath, while to Alec, “Tell my wife that Bishop Francis has arrived and bring her tae meet us in the great hall. We will have this thing done.”
“Aye, Laird.” Scowling, Alec clearly didn’t want anything to do with their unwelcome guests, either. He strode off without a backward glance, leaving Roger to grimly usher the bishop and his men—and William, who kept a wary distance—toward the keep.
* * *
“Forgiveme for bearing such news, Lady Douglas,” Alec said to Julianna, his handsome face somber and his slate blue eyes filled with concern from where he stood just outside the door in his sodden cloak. “Do you need a few moments tae ready yourself?”
She shook her head, smoothing the skirt of her rose-colored gown and echoing nervously what the tall young man had just told her. “So they have arrived—William and the bishop?”
“Aye, with twelve of his guardsmen. A wet and hungry lot I wish we would have left out in the rain.”
Julianna heard the anger in Alec’s voice, which bespoke to his loyalty to Roger and gave her courage.
All of her husband’s men had rallied around her these past few days, along with servants and other retainers alike, a blessing she could never have imagined from Scotsmen whom she had once thought of only as enemies.
Dear God, were there any other miracles from heaven in store? She could only hope it was so as she glanced around the bedchamber she shared with Roger.
Their time spent alone together filled with such passion, such love, her heartbeat quickened to think upon it…though she had not missed the shadow in his eyes that had only deepened with each passing day. She had never made mention of it to him, sensing he didn’t wish to give voice to his troubled thoughts, and she had kept her worries to herself, too, just as they had agreed.
Yet with William here again, there would be no more acting as if nothing was amiss—
