Julianna knew she was near the spot where Roger and Gabriel MacLachlan and their men had made camp overnight, for she had been traveling hard for several hours now. Yet there would be no warming fire wherever she stopped, the heavy underbrush and fallen branches soaked from the steady rain even if she had a tinder box to attempt to ignite a small flame.
She was hungry, too…no, ravenous, but there had been no time for her to try and procure any food before she left. She blinked against the rain in her eyes, and cupped her hand to catch some drops so she could drink—though she gave up in futility, her fingers shook so much from the cold.
She felt drenched to the bone, her woolen cloak no match for the severity of the weather, and imagined her lips must be tinged blue, her teeth chattering.
Still, she gave no consideration to turning back to Douglas Castle, and it would be pitch-dark soon no matter which way she traveled—oh, God!
Another howl…and so close that Julianna glanced in fright to her left and then right. She was certain she smelled the musky dampness of wet fur, but she saw no movement and thankfully no eyes glowing at her from the trees. Yet the mare’s ears were pricked as if sensing that danger was very near—
“Go on with you!” Her outcry echoing around them, she urged the horse into a gallop that brought a splatter of mud and water from the heavily puddled road—a dark shape suddenly crossing right in front of them.
The mare reared, pawing the air as Julianna screamed, fighting to keep control even as she felt herself slipping from the saddle.
Two more shapes materialized out of the woods and then another—and soon several more—a pack of gray wolves circling now and growling as if waiting for her to pitch backward from the horse.
Terror-stricken, Julianna screamed again, which somehow propelled the mare forward into a headlong race along the road while she held on for dear life—not daring to glance behind her in what fading daylight was left.
She could hear the wolves yapping and panting in close pursuit, and realized in despair that she was going to die horribly. There was no way her horse could outrun them, the mare’s sides heaving from exhaustion as Julianna suddenly heard a strange zing in the air, a pained yelp just behind her.
Then another zing as a wolf shrieked in almost humanlike agony while torchlight shone from a clearing along the road just ahead.
God help her, not just torches but a blazing bonfire that made her pull up hard on the reins and nearly tumble forward—Julianna incredulous to see two dozen or more horses tethered to trees and men running toward her.
She felt a moment’s fear, remembering the brutal attack she’d suffered traveling north with Roger, until she saw these men wore armor and carried swords—while several others sheathed their bows and went to inspect the dead wolves lying in the middle of the road.
One of the warriors stockier than the others and with light brown hair and rugged features she had seen before…Julianna staring with amazement at King Robert the Bruce as he stared with equal amazement at her.
“Lady Douglas?”
She bobbed her head, too stunned to say anything as another man grabbed the mare’s halter and a second warrior lifted her down to the muddy ground.
Her knees so shaky from relief, she nearly collapsed, the king clearly seeing her distress and rushing forward to take her arm and steady her.
“You’re shivering from head tae foot, lass. Come with me tae the fire.”
Grateful that King Robert held her arm tightly for how wobbly she felt, Julianna blinked back tears as she drew near the bonfire—the blazing warmth like a miracle from heaven. She saw then that some tents had been erected and she realized she had ridden upon their camp, her shrill screams alerting his men to the wolves.
A moment more and she and her horse would have been attacked and brought down, Julianna trembling at how close she had come to death.
At King Robert’s insistence, she sank down upon a rock and held out her ice-cold hands to warm them, the bright orange flames sputtering and hissing from what had become only a light drizzle. He took a seat, too, on another rock, and stared at her as if he still couldn’t believe his eyes…though more in consternation than surprise.
“How come you tae be here, lass? My men and I are bound for Douglas Castle, yet either we’re too late or too early in answer tae your husband’s messenger—och! You’re the last one I would have expected tae see on this road.”
Now the king was scowling and Julianna felt her face flush, knowing he wanted answers, and quickly.
“I-I’ve left him for the convent in Dumbarton—”
“Left him? By God, what has happened? Tell me, lass, we’re all anxious tae hear it.”
Indeed, the rest of King Robert’s men had gathered around and stared at her, too, with grim faces in the bonfire’s flickering light.
Suddenly Julianna shivered again, dread filling her that the king wouldn’t understand and would take her right back to Roger. She couldn’t stop the tears rolling down her face, either, which made him curse under his breath and wave his men away.
“Och, I’ve been too long without my dear wife tae remember how tender are the hearts of women. Tell me all, lass, and I’ll do my best not tae interrupt you.”
Julianna nodded, still trembling but reassured, and began to hastily tell him about the healer’s and William’s false charges against her of witchcraft, and the bishop’s arrival at Douglas Castle…and the fierce wager of battle where William had revealed that Charles de Montfort had been executed and then, to her horror, what Roger should have told her before they married…
“I would never have wed him!” she blurted out, fresh tears coursing down her face. “His family slaughtered mine! My father and mother—my brother, Alain, stabbed to death by William. He boasted of it, taunting me and taunting Roger—”
