Romancing the Laird, page 13
“It’s not your fault. You had no choice but to protect the king.” Lucy’s throat burned with unshed tears as she sat up and pulled him into her arms. She pressed his face against her chest and rocked back and forth. By the heavens, the pain he must have endured over the last seven years carrying this hideous burden of guilt within him.
She held him in her arms a long time. By sharing these horrors with her, he allowed her to absorb some of his pain. He had suffered terribly when it came to his brides, and she had only added to his burden with her own efforts to harm the king.
As the pink light of dawn crept over the chamber Reid finally lifted his head and looked at her. The lines of stress were gone, but sadness lingered in his startling blue eyes. “I did not mean to tell you all that, but once I started, I found I could not stop.”
“Perhaps it was time you shared your pain, so you could eventually set yourself free from that heavy burden.”
Reid offered her a soft smile. “We are a pair, are we not? Both of us warriors, yet we are caught in battles we cannot fight. At least not alone.” He held out his hand. “Are you with me, Lucy? Will you fight with me to save both of our souls?”
She returned a watery smile. She accepted his hand. “Grace was not able to defend herself. But I can. I will fight beside you today and every day in order to protect the people we love.”
His smile grew and a sparkle came to his eyes. “A moment ago, you were more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen you. And yet now you are ready to go fight monsters.”
“Not alone,” she amended with a laugh. “But aye, with you at my side.”
He echoed her laugh, the sound warming her in places she hadn’t realized were cold.
Fighting monsters or slaying demons with this stranger she called husband. Perhaps together they were capable of great things.
Chapter Twelve
The pinkish skies of dawn had shifted to bluish gray as a contingent of men and the Lord Chancellor, John Maitland, joined Lucy and Reid on the journey past Berwick and on to Haddington. Reid had informed her that even though the tribunal chamber had been established among the ruins of Berwick’s old parish church, those accused were being held in a gaol in the nearby town of Haddington.
The horses were working hard as they flew through the forested land between Falkland and Haddington. If they kept riding at this pace, they would reach her sister in no time.
Lucy lessened her grip on her horse’s reins and gave him his head as she listened to the sound of their many hoofbeats blending with the rustling of the wind overhead. Reid rode beside her, and behind her nearly forty men. Yet far from being comforted by their presence, Lucy found herself growing more and more nervous about what lay ahead. Neither could she shake the sensation that someone was watching them.
As the faint outline of the town of Haddington came into view, Lucy leaned over her horse and said to the beast, “Just a little farther and you can rest, but for now, please go as fast as you can.”
The horse obeyed, moving swiftly along the path as they emerged from the forest. They passed a small church and a dozen or so houses before they came to the center of town. Slowing their pace, she scanned the buildings. “Where is the tolbooth?”
“This way,” Reid replied, heading for a long, rectangular building in the distance. Outside the building, Reid signaled for them to stop.
Lucy jumped off her horse as the others stopped behind her. She readied her bow then reached for an arrow from her quiver and held it in her hand, ready if she needed it in an instant.
She and Reid proceeded with John Maitland to the two guards at the gate. The Lord Chancellor carried with him a document that bore both the king’s signature and seal.
“We are here to release Esme Livingston,” the Lord Chancellor demanded, holding the document out for the older guard to see, though it was doubtful either man could read. They could, however, recognize the royal seal.
The younger guard brought his sword up in challenge while the older man gulped hastily and shook his balding head. “This girl, Esme, she arrived yesterday, and already they’ve taken her tae the river.”
“The river? Whatever for?” Lucy asked, even as suspicion seeped into her mind.
The guard with the sword relaxed his weapon, realizing they were no threat to him. “Fer the swimmin’ test, nae doubt.”
“Which way did they go?”
The guards remained silent.
Lucy raised her bow and nocked an arrow with her next heartbeat, aiming the dangerous point directly at the older man’s chest. “Which way? What river?”
The guard paled and slowly brought his hand up to point to the south. “Go tae the bridge that spans the River Tyne. They’ll swim her there.”
“How long ago did they leave?” Reid asked, his voice tense.
“Nae long,” the younger guard with the sword said. “Mayhap a quarter of an hour ago.”
Lucy did not wait to hear anything more. She slipped her bowstring over her shoulder with one hand while returning her arrow to the quiver with the other, then sprinted back to her horse.
In an instant, Reid was beside her. “We’ll get there in time,” he said, his eyes pleading with her to have faith.
“I pray you are right,” she replied, her voice tight as she directed her horse to the south.
The Lord Chancellor and the others followed if the hoofbeats behind them were any indication, but all of Lucy’s thoughts, all her prayers were focused on her sister.
Esme would be well. They would get there in time. The words became a mantra in her head as they flew across the open ground.
As they neared the river, they came upon a stream of people walking briskly in the direction they were headed. There was a murmur of excitement that carried on the wind and Lucy’s fear lessened. If spectators were still advancing on the location of the witch’s test, then it had not happened yet and they could stop it. If they got there in time.
“Make way!” Reid shouted as though reading her thoughts, clearing a path for them and the horses through the growing crowd.
A path gradually opened and Lucy was finally able to see farther ahead. What she saw made her heart stop. About a quarter of a mile in the distance, atop the red stone bridge that crossed the River Tyne, was a chair and ropes, awaiting the victim they would drown.
Her head began to pound in rhythm with her heart as she stared at the site. This had to be a terrible dream. Her vision began to cloud and she felt herself sway.
Instantly, Reid was beside her, taking her hand and guiding it toward the pommel of the saddle. “Hold tight. Esme will need you when we arrive.”
Lucy drew a deep breath that arrested a moment later as a young woman in a white gown was led to the waiting chair. Her head was bowed, but even from this distance Lucy could see that her sister’s lips moved in a constant prayer that was drowned out by the jeers of the crowd.
“Can we go any faster?” Lucy begged Reid.
He spurred his horse to a faster gait, but as they waited for the crowd to respond to their movements, seconds passed like minutes, minutes like hours.
Lucy’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. They still had so far to go.
On the bridge stood ten men dressed in their Sunday finery. As Esme approached, they took their places at the edge of the bridge to watch. They were to be Esme’s jury during this event with not one woman among them to decide her fate. Two other men stood at the edge of the bridge with long poles in their hands. They would be used to push her sister under the water while another man kept her dangling from a rope, to pull her up three times. If the supposed witch sank, she was deemed innocent, if she floated then she was guilty.
With quiet dignity, Esme sat upon the chair, bringing a fresh round of cheers from the crowd. The man who had followed behind her as she walked was dressed in a coarse brown robe with a hood that came up to cover his head. Once Esme was seated, he used rope to tie her right thumb to her left toe, then her left thumb to her right toe. A large flat rock was then tied about Esme’s waist before a long rope was tied to where her hands and feet were bound. Her head bowed at the taunts that rang out all around her.
“Drown the witch!”
“See if she floats!”
Reid signaled for Lucy to dismount, and clutching her hand in his, they raced forward, able to cover more ground on foot as they wove their way through the crowd.
Despite the fact they were making progress, Lucy despaired about reaching her sister in time. Bile rose in her throat at the thought.
“The water will tell us the truth about the witch!” someone in the crowd shouted.
The man in the robe held up his hand, silencing the audience. “The water shall refuse a servant of Satan. If she is therefore not a witch, her baptism and faith in the almighty will draw her into its bosom. This woman has displayed signs that she is possessed by Satan and therefore requires such a test to confirm or deny our suspicions.” Then, without warning, the man kicked the chair, sending Esme flying over the side of the bridge and into the cold water below.
“Nay!” The word felt wrenched from Lucy’s soul. The air around them quieted as those who watched held their collective breath, waiting and watching.
She and Reid reached the bridge and skidded to a stop just as Esme disappeared below the surface of the gray-green water.
“Pull her up!” Reid demanded. “We have orders from the king himself that this woman is to be set free. She is innocent of all charges.”
When the man hesitated, Lucy lunged for the rope that was attached to her sister and pulled with all her strength.
“I see no proof of what you say.” The man in the brown robe pushed her violently backward against the hard stone.
In that moment, Lucy’s gaze locked with Reid’s, begged him to help her sister more directly. With a nod, he moved to the edge of the bridge and jumped into the water below.
Filled with panic and fear, Lucy staggered to her feet and on trembling legs moved to the side of the bridge. Her gaze clung to the glassy water that flowed by as though nothing out of the ordinary were happening. Where were they? She could see nothing as the seconds stretched into eternity.
Then she heard it—the sound of splashing. Reid’s head broke through the surface first as his feet found the river bottom, followed by Esme whose limp body was cradled in his arms.
Lucy raced from the bridge top to the riverbank. Her breath felt pulled from her lungs as she unfastened her cloak. Dropping it on the riverbank, she waded into the water to greet the sodden pair. The water lapped against her legs as she went deeper into the current. Esme’s eyes were closed, and her face was so pale she looked nearly blue.
“Is she . . .?”
“I’m uncertain. We must hurry to see if anything can be done.” Reid’s breath gasped harshly from his throat.
The current was strong, but not strong enough to keep a healthy man from making his way toward shore. In that moment, Lucy realized that it wasn’t the current that was giving Reid resistance, but the man holding the rope from the bridge above. Two other men had joined him in pulling at the rope still attached to Esme’s bound hands and feet.
“You have to take her,” Reid panted.
Lucy plunged waist deep into the water and accepted her sister’s body into her arms.
“Hold her. I’m letting go,” Reid said, preparing her.
The words filled her with resolve. She grasped on to Esme with all her strength, but the pull on the rope mixed with the tug of the water almost knocked her off her feet. Lucy dug her feet into the riverbed, finding footing and resisting their efforts from above to return her sister to a watery grave.
Reid’s hand dipped below the water and returned with a dagger that he used to slice through the rope holding Esme’s limp body from freedom. Released from the tension, Lucy fell backward with Esme in her arms. A heartbeat later, Reid was there, steadying them both, then taking Esme from her, propelling them all toward shore.
Above them, the crowd had shifted to the bridge, watching in silence.
As Reid and Lucy stumbled from the water, he set Esme on the grassy riverbank. He quickly sliced through her remaining bonds before stretching her body out, as it should have been before they’d tied her in an inescapable knot. Lucy stood beside them, her wet skirts wrapping around her legs, her own breathing as labored as Reid’s.
Filled with fear, Lucy kneeled beside her sister’s seemingly lifeless body. “What do we do? How can we help her?”
“She’s not breathing. We need to force her to take a breath.”
“How?”
“Push her legs up to her chest.”
Grasping her sister’s ankles, Lucy pumped her legs toward her chest three times. Nothing happened.
“Do it again,” Reid directed, watching her sister with a growing desperation that matched her own.
Lucy pumped her sister’s legs three more times before Esme jolted, then coughed, spewing up water. Her cheeks began to take on some pink. “Praise heaven.”
Quickly Reid rolled her to her side. “Esme? You are safe. Your sister is here, beside you.”
“I’m here, Esme,” Lucy said. She nearly winced at the raw sound of her voice. She was still so afraid of . . . She stopped before the rest of her thought could form. “You’re going to be fine, Esme. You are safe. Open your eyes. Come back to me.”
“Lucy?” Esme’s voice was soft, barely audible.
Lucy stroked her sister’s face. “I’m here, sweet one. Open your eyes. Let me know you are truly well.”
Esme’s eyes flickered open. “I do not feel so well.” Her gaze shifted to Reid’s face. “Who are you?”
Lucy laughed, the sound filled with all the relief she now felt. “He is the man who saved your life. Meet Laird Douglas, Reid.”
“Reid?” Esme asked. “You married Reid Douglas.”
Her response brought a warmth to Lucy’s chest, banishing her fear. Her sister had not been grievously damaged by what she had endured. “Aye, Esme. He is my husband.” Lucy’s gaze connected with the man on the opposite side of her sister. She saw the weariness in his face and hoped he could read the gratitude in her own. “Thank you.”
Reid nodded. “Let’s sit you up.” With a hand beneath Esme’s shoulders, he guided the young woman into a sitting position.
Immediately, her gaze moved to the bridge and the men who stood watching them there. She started to shiver. “They tried to drown me.”
Lucy reached for the cloak she’d discarded earlier and wrapped the garment around her sister’s shoulders. “They cannot hurt you anymore, sweet one. The king has released you into our care, and as soon as you are able, we will take you away from here.”
Esme looked back to her with wide, startled eyes. “Do not take me back home. Please, don’t make me face Father. I beg you.”
Now was not the time to tell her sister there was no home to return to, nor was it the time to press her further about what she meant. There would be time for all of that later, when they were safely away from this place of torture and death. “Fear not. You will come home to Redhouse Castle with Reid and me. We will protect you from any further harm. I promise.”
Reid stood. “Stay here with your sister. I’ll go make certain James Maitland has lived up to his part in all this. I’ll bring the horses down to retrieve you both when all is well.”
Lucy’s gaze followed Reid as he made his way up the embankment and onto the bridge. When he left, Esme started to cry. “What is it, sweet one?” Lucy asked, smoothing her sodden hair away from her face.
“They hurt me.”
“Aye.” Lucy closed her hand over Esme’s as the younger woman started to shake uncontrollably.
“They tore my clothes. They stripped me bare. Then they poked me over and over again.”
“Aye.” Lucy’s grip tightened as fury surged through her. “No one is going to hurt you ever again.”
“My body, aye, but I’ll never forget. I’ll always see their faces in my dreams.”
“Nay,” Lucy said fiercely. “You’re strong. You will forget them. I’ll help you.”
Esme laid her head against Lucy’s chest. “You are the strong one. Me, I’ve never been strong enough to stand up for myself, even against Father and his demands.”
Lucy swallowed to ease the tightness in her throat. “You are alive, sweet one. That is all that matters.”
*
“You have a right to be angry,” the Lord Chancellor said miserably, taking two steps back when Reid joined him on the bridge. “Is she well? Will she live?”
Raw anger fired Reid’s blood as he stared at the man who had been sent to set Esme free, then to the pale-faced others who stood several paces away. “They nearly drowned her, but she will survive.”
“You can’t blame me anymore than I blame myself about the harm they caused that poor innocent girl. We should have left the palace last night.”
“We cannot change the past, but tell me you’ve negotiated for her release.”
The Lord Chancellor nodded. “Aye. The document from King James was all that was needed. She is free to go.”
“That is good news.”
“My apologies, again. I truly did not believe this would happen,” the Lord Chancellor said, his expression forlorn.
At court, the Lord Chancellor was far removed from the turmoil the witch hunts had created. Either that, or he had turned a blind eye to the harm that was happening to innocents across the land. “All over Scotland people are being falsely accused for simple things that cannot be explained. What used to be considered magical, or a curiosity, is now seen as evil and demonic thanks to the king. If you are truly sorry for what happened here today, then do something to temper the king’s more fanatical tendencies. You have the position and the power to do so.”
“I shall endeavor to try,” the Lord Chancellor said humbly.
