The Rock Read online

She shook her head. “He wasn’t. He just didn’t want to do it. He said he was leaving in a day or two—I’m not even sure he’s still here.” She paused, taking a deep breath through tight lungs. “He said there is a woman waiting for him. A woman he hopes to marry.”

  If she’d surprised him before, she’d managed to shock her brother dumbstruck now. “Married? You are serious?”

  She nodded.

  “To whom?”

  She shrugged, looking down at her hands. She was gripping her bracelet so tightly, she realized, the imprint would probably be dug into her skin. “He didn’t say. Only that she’s a widow of a baron.”

  Jamie quirked a brow, obviously impressed. “It’s a good match for him.”

  Why did hearing her brother say it only make her feel worse? Marriage had always been about making the best alliance to her—why wasn’t it in this case? “Aye,” she agreed.

  Jamie didn’t say anything, but she could feel his eyes on her. After a moment he said, “The widow will have to wait, and if he’s gone already, he can be brought back.”

  “Nay, you don’t understand. The widow was only an excuse. He doesn’t want to help, Jamie.”

  “What he wants is immaterial. I’m not giving him a choice. MacGowan is a soldier, he will do what he is told.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened in horror, thinking about what Thom had said. Jamie forcing him would only reinforce every horrible thought he had about being their “servant.”

  “No! You can’t order him, Jamie.” She thought back to her conversation with Thom. “Maybe if you ask him personally, and explain the situation . . .”

  “So he can have the satisfaction of refusing me?” He made a sharp scoffing sound, and said, “I don’t think so. If he refused you, he sure as hell isn’t going to do it for me.”

  “But—”

  He put up his hand, stopping her. “This is our best way—maybe the only way—of getting Archie back. What’s more important, your brother or MacGowan’s tweaked pride?”

  Both. Nothing Jamie had said was wrong, but Elizabeth knew Thom wouldn’t see it that way. He would be furious.

  She couldn’t let him think the worst of them. What he wanted did matter to her.

  She stilled. Maybe there was a way. Maybe if she asked him again and could convince him to help, Jamie wouldn’t need to order him to do it. She just prayed that he was still here.

  “Report to Douglas at first light. You will be under his command for the entirety of the mission.”

  It took everything Thom had to keep his expression neutral while listening to Carrick, when rage boiled inside him like a pot with a too-tight lid.

  He couldn’t believe it. He was being forced on the very mission for which Elizabeth had come to him the night before last. His answer, and what he’d wanted, hadn’t mattered. Either she or Jamie—or maybe both—had gone directly to Carrick.

  Though this smacked of Jamie’s methods, he knew how desperate Elizabeth must be feeling. Was she not giving him the opportunity to refuse again?

  It didn’t matter who it was. He had anger enough for both of them. Thom was a damned pawn, to be moved about at Douglas’s will. He was the village boy again who had to bite his tongue and not defy his “lord.”

  That he’d been about to volunteer for the mission to which he’d just been assigned only proved what a bloody fool he was. He couldn’t believe he’d actually been feeling guilty for refusing to help.

  He fought to keep his emotions in check as he responded to Carrick. “I should not like to keep Lady Marjorie waiting, my lord. I understood I would be permitted to leave in the morning.”

  The earl frowned. “This mission takes precedence. The lady will have to wait a bit longer.” He smiled wolfishly. “I’m sure you will think of a way to make it up to her.”

  Thom’s jaw clamped. “And if I were to refuse?”

  Carrick’s eyes narrowed. “This is not a request. The king has ordered that Douglas be given whatever he needs to free his brother. Douglas seems to think that you may be of use to him—and I tend to agree based on the rooftop service you performed for Lady Marjorie.” Carrick studied him a little longer, perhaps suspecting the rage that Thom was fighting hard to contain. “I know there is bad blood between you and Douglas, and he would have seen you gone from this army well before now. I haven’t let him interfere because I see a lot of promise in you. Succeed on this mission, and you can prove to both of us that that belief is warranted.”

  Thom didn’t need to prove anything to the “Lord” of Douglas, but he nodded, only too aware that he didn’t have a choice. Douglas had seen to that.

  “Good,” Carrick said. “I will look forward to hearing of your exploits when you get back. You can return to the barracks or wherever it was that you were heading when Henry found you.”

  “The river, my lord.” He was still covered in soot from his work in the forge earlier.

  “To wash?”

  Thom nodded.

  “It’s as cold as a witch’s teat out there,” Carrick said with a shiver.

  Thom would take his word for it.

  Carrick waved his hand, signaling for Henry to come forward. “Have a bath prepared for MacGowan in the kitchens. If one cannot be found, have them use mine.”

  The squire’s eyes rounded, but he nodded.

  Carrick’s generosity surprised Thom as well. He supposed it was meant to ease the sting of being forced not just on the mission but also under Douglas’s command.

  It didn’t, but he wasn’t fool enough to refuse the rarity of heated water. “Thank you, my lord,” Thom said, taking his leave.

  He retrieved the drying cloth, soap, and fresh clothes that he’d left outside Carrick’s chamber in the dungeon after Henry had chased him down, and followed the squire to the kitchens.

  While the water heated in big iron pots over the fire, he tried to ease the tempest swirling inside him with drink. Lots of it. He downed cup after cup from the jug one of the serving maids had brought him. It was uisge beatha, and from the raw, throat-searing taste of it, he better not put his cup too close to the fire or it would combust.

  The liquor did its job, however, taking the violent edge off his anger so that when the same serving maid offered to help him remove his clothes—with a look that promised more—he agreed. A lass was exactly what he needed to take the rest of the edge off.

  Carrick’s squire returned to his duties and left them alone in the corner alcove of the kitchens where the bath had been set up.

  The lass was probably a few years older than him, buxom, dark haired, and pretty enough with a wide mouth that spoke of experience and pleasure. He’d wager this wasn’t the first time she’d made a similar offer to a man in this castle.

  Thom let her undress him. Let himself slink into the warm water. Let her hands roam all over his body with the soap, scrubbing the dirt and grime from his skin as she made little sounds of pleasure and anticipation at all she found.

  He wanted to like it. He wanted to harden in her hand. He wanted to lie back, close his eyes, and let her stroke some of the lust and anger from his body.

  He sure as hell wasn’t the untried lad he’d been three years ago. He’d stopped waiting for Elizabeth the moment he’d left Douglas. None of which explained why he gently unfurled the serving girl’s hand from around him and shook his head. “Just the bath, lass. I think I’ve had too much of the cook’s spirits.”

  The lass didn’t concede defeat easily, but when it became clear she wasn’t going to change his mind, she helped him wash his hair, and then fetched the linen drying cloth to wrap around his waist as he stepped out of the tub.

  The drink had been helped along by the warm water, and she had to steady him when he nearly slipped by putting her hands around him.

  At first he thought she was the one who’d gasped. It wasn’t until he’d peeled her now damp chest (and impressively hard nipples) from his that he looked over and saw they were no longer alone.

  El