Lord of the Highlands (31 page)

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Authors: Veronica Wolff

BOOK: Lord of the Highlands
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Felicity looked to Will. His eyes cut to her, as if he’d felt her gaze on him. She wanted a smile, a nod, but he simply sat stiff and erect, the look on his face unreadable.
There was a rapid movement on the edge of her vision. The witch had thrown something on the fire. The flames bloomed, swelling to life like a cresting wave, crackling angrily and spewing gray smoke through the cavern.
She felt ill from the stench of it.
Pregnant
, she thought. She was pregnant and nauseous. She swallowed hard.
Her mind grew muddled. She tried to focus on the woman’s ceremony, but her mind spun away, thoughts slipping like sand through her fingers.
She clung to the sight of Will. They were having a baby. He was going to be a father. He couldn’t let her go now. The thought transfixed her, a lone spotlight as her conscious mind meandered through the fog, Gormshuil’s chanting drifting over her like so much pipe smoke.
The witch clapped her hands. Felicity’s eyes snapped to her, finding Gormshuil staring. Smoke hung in the air, reddening the woman’s pale eyes, making them seem rheumy and ancient. “I see the way, girl.”
The witch turned her attention to Will. Her voice was stern as she intoned, “Heed me, William Rollo. If this woman leaves, she will never return. She shall be lost to this time forever.
Cho fad’s a bhios muir a’bualadh ri lic.
As long as sea beats on stone. Lost, to us, forever.”
Tears stung Felicity’s eyes, anguish and fear stealing the breath from her lungs. She looked at Will. Surely he’d fight this. He’d change his mind. She peered at him through the smoke, but all she saw was the face of a war hero. Grim and still as he’d ever been.
The woman’s voice keened from the shadows.
“Sìth do d’annam, is Clach air do Chàrn.”
“A proverb, lass. For you.” It was the Cameron chief, his voice low and kind. “The witch bids peace to thy soul, and a stone to thy cairn.”
 
They journeyed back to Tor Castle in tense silence, Ewen having made it clear he’d tolerate no lovers’ quarrels in his presence.
The thought that he might be embroiled in something so banal as a lovers’ quarrel thrilled and gutted Will in equal measure.
The enforced silence was just as well. He needed to think. That Felicity carried his child rocked him.
It was a miracle. How strange and wondrous to think on what they’d created. Would the child have hair dark like his, and her brightly chattering ways? Would he or she be good with horses; be tall like him, or petite like her?
He fought the impulse to see it as a sign that she’d been right all along, that they were destined to be together. Was sending Felicity back still the right course? That his seed had quickened so soon in her belly sowed doubt in his mind.
He knew now they were meant to be together. It was the
staying
together that seemed impossible. Danger was all around. From Roundheads and witch-hunters. From his own family, God spare him.
He owed the Sealed Knot men a favor. It would surely be a dangerous errand, a fool’s errand, him likely paying his debt to them with his life. If something happened to him, how would Felicity manage alone, with a child?
And yet.
A baby.
His
baby. He’d never imagined he’d have a family of his own. He thought of his father, of all they’d shared. Of how great an impact he’d had on Will’s life. How much the man had formed him, taught him.
If he said good-bye to Felicity, he’d never know the other side of that relationship, would never be a parent to a child. He’d never teach his son or daughter to ride, never share that great gift his father had given him.
How could he survive with his child out there, somewhere, growing up without him? He couldn’t bear not being with Felicity, not seeing her become a mother.
Not seeing her become his wife.
For that’s what a child meant. Will was already her husband in his heart. A child was simply proof of that love.
He watched her, riding on the road back to Tor Castle. Watched as she stroked her belly, regularly reaching down to rub circles where their baby grew, some new inner radiance brightening her already too lovely face.
She thought this news would mean she’d be able to stay. And though his heart protested, he knew that, now more than ever, she needed to leave.
His brother had made it his lifelong goal to destroy anything Will had ever loved. If a young Jamie would maim a boy and his pony, what would he do to Will’s child now that he’d grown into a man desperate and bent on revenge?
Will’s own father hadn’t been able to protect him, and from his very own son. How could Will be assured that he’d be able to protect his own child?
Will had no choice. He’d have Felicity and their baby safe.
And he knew now it would kill him to do so.
That he’d never lay eyes on his child was a crushing loss. It would be the single greatest tragedy of his life. Second only to saying good-bye to Felicity.
The ride was a blur, silent and anguished. Seeing Felicity’s newfound joy, his pain redoubled. His love for her would grow on, in this child she carried. And sending them away would destroy him.
They arrived, and a letter awaited him. Ewen left them, going straight to check on Lily. But Will opened the envelope immediately, standing there in the entryway.
“Who’s it from?” Felicity shrugged off her cloak, handed it to a maid. “Who even knows we’re here?”
She felt light and giddy, and in the way of all great moods, she had the sense that everything was now going to go her way. She was sure the letter would bear some additional bit of amazing news. Like Jamie was apologizing, or maybe the whole king thing was settled.
“What’s it say, Will?”
“It looks to be two letters, actually,” Will muttered.
“Are they both to you?” She craned her neck to get a better look. “Why don’t you open the other one?”
“It’s not to me.”
“What do you mean it’s not to you? Who’s it to?”
“Och, woman,” he snapped. “Please give me a moment.”
She’d been riding so high, his brusque tone came as a shock. “Ouch,” she mumbled, feeling herself deflate.
“Och,” he growled again. “I’m sorry, love.” He looked at her, and his expression startled her. There was a blankness there, a deadness in his eyes. “ ’Tis only . . . this is happening sooner than I’d expected.”
“What is?” she asked quietly. “What’s going on?”
He sighed. “The letter. It’s from Ormonde. A summons from the Sealed Knot men,” he said, showing her the opened letter. “And”—he gestured to the elaborately sealed envelope—“a message for the King.”
“The King?” she asked, taken aback. “What do they need to write to the King about?”
“Cromwell.” Will was remote, his mind seeming to whir on other things. “He’s dead.”
“Wow . . . well . . . that’s a good thing, right?”
“His son Richard has been named his successor. Be it one Cromwell or another,” Will mused distractedly, “time will tell what that means for Charles.”
“But what does this all have to do with you?”
“Don’t you see?” He pinned her with his gaze, his attention clicking back to the moment. “The Sealed Knot asks that I be the one to deliver word to the King.”
“I . . . I’m still not getting it. Where is he? I thought the King was—”
“In Belgium? Aye.” Will crumpled his letter in his fist. “He’s in exile, in Bruges. And I’m to deliver this message to him.”
“Oh.” It finally hit home. Will had to leave, to see the King. In Belgium. “Well, I’ll just go too. I’ve never been there before.”
“The only place you’re going is back to your own time.” He stared at the King’s letter in his hand, his face a hard mask. “This has become far too dangerous. My brother, witch-hunters . . . they are nothing compared to this. Cromwell’s spies hope to intercept just this sort of correspondence. To capture and kill those who carry it.”
She’d been feeling so joyful, and the intensity of her emotions took a pendulum swing to anger. “So you’re still going to send me back.”
“That’s why we came,” he told her, subdued. “To get instructions from Cameron’s witch.”
“But we just found out I’m pregnant. You’re going to let me go even though I’m pregnant?” He simply nodded, and so she pressed, “So you’re just going to say good-bye. Even though
I’m carrying your baby
. How can you do that?”
“I do it to save you.”
“I don’t get it,” she snapped. “I don’t get how all these other women are allowed to stay here. Lily, Maggie, whatever the hell their names are. Why can’t
I
stay?”
“It’s not safe for you.”
“Ewen let Lily stay! She’s even had babies, and she’s still fine.”
“Ewen is chief of his clan,” he said evenly. “Who am I? I’m not even an eldest son. Jamie won’t rest until he sees you dead. And a child of mine? Even worse. He’ll rally religious zealots, Parliamentarians, my old Covenanter enemies, he’ll use all at his disposal to see me . . . to see
us
destroyed. I cannot see you and a baby . . .”
He shut his eyes as if to gather himself. When he opened them, the man she knew had retreated, and before her stood the stoic William Rollo once more. It made her unutterably sad. “I cannot see you and our baby in danger. I love you, Felicity, and this is the only way I know to protect you.”
“You could come with me then.”
“No.” The foyer was dim, and torchlight flickered on the edges of his features. A handsome face, through some strange alchemy turned to steel. “I can’t. I have obligations. I made a promise. I must see the King restored.”
“Seriously, Will.” She was grasping at straws. “Listen, England had a queen when I left. They’ve got princes coming out of their ears over there. The monarchy was alive and well. Your work is as good as done.”
“I would,” he began, looking pained. “I would go with you. But I made a promise, and I am a man of my word.”
“How’d they even know how to find you?”
“The Sealed Knot men can’t be underestimated.”
“Well they sure found you mighty fast.”
“Perhaps I’d mentioned to Ormonde that we were traveling to Lochaber.”
“
Perhaps
you’d mentioned it,” she said testily. She put a hand up to silence whatever excuse he was about to give her. “Whatever. I get it. There’s no convincing you. It’s bye-bye Felicity. The noble hero is gallivanting off into the sunset and certain death.”
Her voice cracked on those last words. Anger and confusion and grief clawed at her, paralyzing her thoughts, freezing her tongue in her mouth.
And, for the first time in a very long time, Felicity was silenced.
Chapter 31
Will came for her in the night. Though they’d been given separate rooms, he’d come for her every night as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
But this night was different. This night she knew would be their last.
She lay there, silently, wondering if he’d know she was really awake. She feigned sleep, but her anger she didn’t have to pretend.
But she needed him. She loved Will, more desperately than ever. She needed him near, and so she lay still, listening as he unlatched the door, slowly pushed it open, walked to her bed.
She heard the shuffle and light tap of his cane, and the sounds seared her. Ran her through. He was gorgeous and noble. Thoughtful, brilliant, kind, and brave. But it was Will’s vulnerability that she loved most of all.
She heard him pause. He stood by her bed, not making a sound. She was terrified he’d leave. Terrified Will might turn and go, forever.
Felicity considered saying something, but stayed mute. She’d already said it all. There was nothing left to say.
There was the heavy sound of wool falling to the floor.
His plaid.
Relief burst through her, a tingling cascade across her chest. She realized she’d been holding her breath.
She felt the skim of bed linens against her skin, and moved just the slightest fraction over, making room.
Felicity lay on her side, her back to him. Still she pretended sleep, but wondered who she was kidding. She was naked. Waiting.
She felt the mattress give with his weight. It was stuffed with dried heather and made a light crunching sound as he lay next to her.
Did he think she was asleep? Surely he could tell from her breathing that she wasn’t. She wondered what he would do. Would he wake her? How much did he want her?
“Speak to me, love,” he whispered into the darkness.
She lay still, listening to the rasp of his breathing. Though he wasn’t touching her, his body radiated warmth along her back.
He pulled the bed linens up, sliding them carefully over her shoulder. Tucking his finger under her hair, he slid the mass of it from where it had tangled at her neck. There was another rustle, a hit of chill air, and warmth again as she sensed his arm under the covers.
“We part tomorrow.” He reached for her, and his fingers scorched her like a burn. “It will be the end of my world.” His hand stroked along her side, tracking a slow curve from hip, sloping to waist, up along her ribs, and back again. “I will be as a dead man, Felicity. A man without his heart.”
Her breath hitched and she struggled not to speak. Bottled-up emotion clutched at her throat, aching with her unshed tears.
“I want you.” The husky tremble in his voice made her shiver.
She wanted him too. Had never stopped wanting him.
He stroked up and down the side of her body.
Is this it?
Would this be the last time they’d ever be together? Felicity thought maybe she should turn around. Grab him, and shout, and make it memorable. But she could only lie there, stricken by her pain.
“Say something,” he whispered.
But there was too much to say. Nothing more she could say.
She thought for a moment, maybe if she didn’t have sex with him . . . Maybe it wouldn’t be good-bye until they did.

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